


Netflix & Chill

by dandelionsandberries



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:51:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionsandberries/pseuds/dandelionsandberries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When her best friend ask Katniss to come to his dorm to watch a movie, she’s simply happy to spend a night chilling. But when her roommate insinuates he means something completely different, she begins to worry. And, perhaps, hope for something more. Written for Prompts in Panem Round 8 Day 2 and Day 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Round 8 of Prompts in Panem. I posted Part 1 on Day 2 (Other Worlds - Contemporary) and Part 2 on Day 4 (7 Deadly Sins - Lust).
> 
> This is unbetad and English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes. Enjoy!

I stand in front of my wardrobe only in my underwear, hands on my waist and concentrated eyes to find something to wear. I just tossed my third change of clothes on my bed and now I honestly think that they all decided to rebel against me, because nothing seems to fit right.

“Still fighting with your wardrobe, Brainless?” Johanna asks, showing up on my door unannounced.

“Shut up, Jo,” I reply, sending her a death glare. I’m still mad at her for implying things that are _not real_ , which is what got me in this mess in the first place.

She laughs at me, entering on my bedroom without an invitation. “Can’t find something cute to wear on your date?”

“It’s not a date!” I say for what seems to be the millionth time tonight.

“Then why are you so worried about your clothes, anyway? In any other day, you’d be showing up in pajamas.” She asks.

 _Because what if it is a date?_ Then wouldn’t it be rude for me to show only on my pj? Wouldn’t it be inconsiderate to Peeta’s feelings? I mean, if it is a date, he probably planned something for us, and it would be incredibly impolite of me to not act like we’re on a date, right? Not that I actually _hope_ it’s a date. Or even _think_ it’s a date, for that matter.

_But what if it is?_

I don’t say any of this to Johanna, though. I only send another death glare her way.

She sighs, looking frustrated. “Okay. Look, that Mellark boy? He’s crazy for you. I mean, you could show up dressed in a crocodile costume and he’d want to bang you.”

I scoff at her. _Peeta Mellark crazy for me. Peeta Mellark wanting to bang me. As if!_

Peeta Mellark is definitely _not_ crazy for me and definitely does _not_ want to bang me. Peeta Mellark is my best friend. He’s been my best friend for three years, since the first day of college. And a very good friend, I might add. He probably views me as his little sister or something.

Besides, he has a line of other girls fighting against one another to get a date with him. It’s not like he’s going to pay attention to me, plain old Katniss, someone he considers a _friend_ and _nothing else_. This whole situation is crazy, to be honest.

“You’re delusional,” I tell Johanna, shifting through a drawer with my hands to find my favorite shorts.

“If I am so delusional, why are you so damn worried about it?”

“I’m not!” I exclaim, finding the cut-off shorts and passing my legs through the holes. I give a small hop to make it go through my butt. “See? I’m already putting on clothes.”

When I finish locking the front button and zippering it up, I notice Johanna staring at me.

“What?” I ask, my tone accusing.

She bites the corner of her lip before replying. “I know you don’t want any suggestions, but If I may… I think you should wear that blue sundress.”

I cock my head to the side. “What? Why?”

“Well, for one, it hugs your body perfectly. And, also, it would make it easier for you to sit on him.”

“Johanna!” I shout, tossing my pillow at her as she starts to crack up in laughter. “Get out! Now!” I point my forefinger at the door.

“God, you’re such a prude!” She chortles, putting my pillow back on my bed and falling on it. “I’m just saying… Better be prepared.”

“Jesus, you’re so out of line here!” I say, starting to rummage through my clothes again.

“Come on, Brainless, you are the only one oblivious to the way that boy looks at you. It’s written all over his face how much he want you.”

I find one of my favorites t-shirts on my bottom drawer and pull it out before turning on my heels to look at her. “Even if he does, which _I’m positive it’s not the case_ , it’s not like I feel the same way.”

She quirks an eyebrow up. “Are you sure about that?”

I put the shirt on and turn to look at myself in the mirror. “Positive.”

She comes to stand behind me, eyeing my reflection as she talks, “Then why you just put basically the only shirt you own that shows your cleavage?”

I feel my cheeks burning when I realize what she’s saying is true. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” I deflect, walking to my dressing table to comb my hair.

What if I am dressing up like it’s a date? Maybe I _do_ want it to be a date. What is the big deal about that, anyway? It’s not like it’s her business.

“Hair down?” Jo inquires when I start putting on my black pearl earrings (the ones that Peeta gave me last Christmas and I almost didn’t accept) and my watch.

I shrug, walking to the foot of my bed to put my flip-flops. “I don’t feel like braiding it today.”

“Sure,” she exhales. “Are you still going to deny this is a date?”

“Yeap,” I say, moving to my bedside table to catch my phone, my keys, my credit card and some cash. “I’m going now.”

I walk past her and through my door, then stride along our common room. Just as I’m opening our dorm room to the hallway she stops me.

“Katniss, wait up!” She calls, coming out of my bedroom and into her room. A moment later she’s in front of me, arm stretching forward with a condom on her hand. "Don’t forget to be safe.”

I have to shut the door closed between us to restrain me from punching her right on the face.

* * *

 As I walk through campus to get to Peeta’s building, I open our texting history to search for any sign of second intentions from his part for tonight.

 **Peeta ( _sent 6:07 p.m._ ):** Hey, what are your plans for tonight?

 **Me ( _sent 6:10 p.m._ ):** Nothing, really. Thinking ‘bout going to bed early. You?

 **Peeta ( _sent 6:12 p.m._ ):** The boys are going out, but I’m not in the mood.

 **Peeta ( _sent 6:15 p.m._ ):** Want to come over to watch Netflix and chill?

 **Me ( _sent 6:16 p.m._ ):** Idk, my bed is too comfortable.

 **Peeta ( _sent 6:18 p.m._ ):** I have beer and I’ll order pizza.

 **Me ( _sent 6:18 p.m._ ):** Be there in 20.

I rake through it five times, but I can’t find exactly where something’s supposed to be implied and my mind is so confused that I want to run back to my dorm and never leave my bed.

Then I remember telling Jo about my plans tonight, how she laughed at me and pulled up the urban dictionary definition for “Netflix and chill”.

It said, _“It means that you are going to go over to your partner’s house and fuck with Netflix in the background.”_

I blushed so much, in a state of profound and deep embarrassment, that I almost threw the phone on her head. Probably got as beet red as I am right now, standing in front of Peeta’s building with all this inappropriate thoughts running through my head. I feel so ashamed that I actually consider the idea of coming back all the way to my dorm as a serious one.

I’m just about to drop him a text saying I’ll stay home when one from him lights up on my phone screen.

 **Peeta _(sent 6:49 p.m.)_ : **You coming? The pizza just arrived.

Great. After he went on all of the trouble of ordering a pizza and it’s already here, I can’t flee.

I type a quick text to him saying I’m coming up before I slide my college ID on the card reader and the gate opens. I bump into the delivery pizza guy as I go up the stairs to Peeta’s 2nd floor dorm. I have to take calming steadying breaths before knocking on his door.

“Hey!” He greets me when he opens the door, with the same attitude as always and a big smile plastered on his face.

“Hi,” I whisper shyly, stepping inside and closing the door when he backs away and plumps down on his sofa. He looks normal, normal enough that it eases down my nerves a bit. “I’m sorry for being late.”

He dismisses my words with a wave of his hand and grabs the TV remote with the other, shuffling through the options on Netflix. “Nah, you got here just in time.”

“Great,” I say, still trying to manage my embarrassment as I sit down next to him. I’m suddenly extremely conscious about his two seat couch, how it’s shaped in a way that make us close, more than necessary. I shift closer to the armrest, avoiding contact with him, but his right knee still touches my left thigh and the skin located there burns.

God, this night is going to be awful.

“Okay,” Peeta says, distracting me from my internal struggle and pointing to the pizza box at the coffee table. “I got half cheesy beef poutine and half cherry pepper bombshell. Those are your favorites, right?”

“ _Oh my gawd_ ,” I half-say half-moan, aiming for the pizza box and grabbing a delicious greasy slice of cheesy beef. “I could seriously kiss you right now.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, I freeze, the pizza slice halfway up to my mouth. Did I really said that? _Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that_. Not on our _could-be-date_. Fuck. I’m an idiot.

I stare at Peeta in shock, my mouth still slack from the surprise my own words caused me, waiting for him to say something flirtatious or teasing, but he just shrugs it off with a chuckle and takes a slice for himself. “Let’s just say you owe me one.”

_I owe him one? What does that even mean?_

_Argh_ , this night didn’t even started and I’m already with a headache from trying to find meaning in the little actions and things he says. I can’t keep up with this anymore. I’m sure I’d be better off sleeping on my room. Would it be rude to leave now? Maybe I can fake a stomach ache.

“What you want to watch?” Peeta asks, pulling me to reality one more time, the TV remote on his hand.

I look at him and take a bite of my pizza before replying, “I’m fine with anything you want to watch.”

“Hm, I actually didn’t catch up with _House of Cards_ since finals. Would you mind watching it again?”

“Please!” I exclaim. “We have to fix that heresy right now. And I _have_ to talk to someone about what happened last season.”

He laughs at me and clicks on the show under the “keep watching” tab on the screen. “So, you really don’t mind re-watching? I was just going to start episode nine.”

“Not at all! I love me some Claire Underwood.”

“Someone has a girl crush, huh?” He whispers as he hits play and settles on his seat, and his knee connects with more of my skin.

“Something like that,” I say, teasing back, and see his eyes sparkle with curiosity before focusing my gaze on the TV.

We fall silent as the episode starts, and my eyes open wide when I hear the sound of moans mixed with the soundtrack coming from the TV. A few seconds later, Kate Baldwin shows up riding Thomas Yates, her head going back as she comes, a last moan leaving her mouth. I wince, gulping down the pizza that’s on my mouth dryly. Because _of course_ the episode we’re watching would start with a sex scene in my maybe-a-date-maybe-not with Peeta. _Of course_. I’m lucky that way.

I avert my eyes from the screen and pick at a french fry from my pizza to distract me from what just happened. Peeta seems unfazed by it, but one look in my direction and he would see the flush on my cheeks and notice that there’s something wrong.

So I continue to bite into my slice, intending to be an almost imperceptible company when the scene changes to Frank Underwood talking about the American Dream and AmWorks. Good. Much safer territory.

Peeta keeps his eyes on the screen as he reaches out to the pizza box, bringing it to his lap and grabbing another slice for him and one for me. I shove the rest of my first slice on my mouth and take the one he’s offering, now a cherry pepper one. Our hands brush on the exchange and I feel the electricity running from my fingers to my whole body, hitting all of my limbs, and the blush peeks up on my face again. But Peeta keeps his gaze glued to the screen and I sigh as I take a bite on my new slice, relaxing again.

Through the whole episode, things like that happens. Our hands meet again when we both go for another slice of pizza. He rearranges himself on the couch making our arms brush. I prop my feet up on the coffee table and his leg touches the skin behind my knee. He drops his head closer to my ear to whisper something about the scene happening. I try to clean the pizza crumbles from my lap and end up grazing his thigh with my left hand. He scratches something on his elbow and his knuckles rub my arm. After every touch, I try to let myself loose and stop overanalyzing things, but then another touch happens, and I’m back where I started.

I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know it this is new, if all this contact is flirting, if it means something, or if it’s normal for us, and I’m just conscious about all of this since Johanna implicated sex would be in Peeta’s mind tonight. I don’t even know if all of my actions are unconscious or if I’m doing this to increase the proximity between us, to actually show some interest towards Peeta. But all of these touches made me alive with electricity and combined with the inadequate sex pondering going through my mind resulted on a throbbing on my center.

So when episode nine ends and Peeta offers me a beer, I more than eagerly accept it. After all, I need something to help me calm my nerves. He makes his way around the couch to go to the kitchen, pizza box in hand, probably intending to throw it off. When he comes back, though, he chooses to jump my stretched out legs instead of rounding the sofa, and I have to bite my bottom lip because the brief connection between his knee and the side of my thigh almost makes me moan. He falls on his seat and hands me my beer, already with the cap off, and I take it and move it to my mouth directly. I take a good sip, and the cool liquid effectively relaxes my dry throat and softens my bloom a little.

“You want to watch another one?” Peeta asks, already clicking on the next episode.

I nod, because I don’t think I’m able to form words right now, and take another gulp from my beer. And I really don’t mind watching another episode with Peeta, but the truth is that I can’t concentrate on Frank bullshiting his way through electors’ questions and on Claire’s negotiations about the peace keeping mission on the Jordan Valley or even on Jackie and Remy’s sexual tension because I’m too focused on my own sexual tension with Peeta. He’s bouncing his leg rhythmically, and every time it goes up it hits my thigh, and I’m starting to think he’s doing it on purpose. Especially when he stretches and drapes his arm over the back of my seat, his forearm touching the nape of my neck. _That’s got to be the oldest trick on the book._

And that’s when I realize: Johanna _was_ right.

Without even noticing what I’m doing, I remove my feet from the coffee table and sit up straight, turning myself on Peeta’s direction and catching the remote from his belly. He looks at me surprised as I pause the show and glare at him. But nothing beats his wide-eyed expression when he hears my question, “Peeta, did you ask me to come over to fuck me?”

He freezes, his blue eyes practically sticking out of his face, looking at me like I’m the most bizarre creature in this world. Then, he talks, “I- I- I would never… I mean, how do you kn… I didn’t- What?”

The stammering and expression on his face are enough to let me know I’m right and I sigh, burying my face on my hands, because although he _did_ make me all hot and bothered, I don’t know what the hell to do with this new piece of information. And, honestly, I’m a little bit disappointed, because I expected better from Peeta. “Oh my god. You did! This is all a scheme because you want to fuck me!”

“No!” He’s quick to protest, lowering my hands with his until they rest on my lap. “I mean- Kinda.”

“Peeta!” I yell in horror and he squeezes my hands, like he wants to stop me before I even have the idea to leave.

“Okay, just- Just let me explain, alright?” He asks with pleading eyes, tightening his grip on my hands once more. Before I have the chance to agree, he starts to ramble, his hands moving around him while he talks, “Look, I’ve had this crush on you since forever, okay? And by forever I mean literally from the first time I saw you on campus, and I just- Ugh, I just can’t get over it. And I’m happy being your friend, but I thought that I could at least try, you know? I got tired of being called a coward by Finnick and then he came up with this idea and it seemed innocent enough at the time, but now I’m thinking that it wasn’t and that I just creeped you and I am so sorry, Katniss. And I completely understand if you want to leave, but please don’t. I want to still be your friend and-“

His voice halts when I lift my hand up to make him stop. He looks like a lost puppy, breathless and uneasy, and the way he’s talking is not making any sense. “Okay, stop and breathe,” I command. We inhale and exhale together in a couple calming breaths and I can see the panic dying down on his eyes. “Now, back up on the story. Finnick came up with the idea?”

“Yes, he did,” he replies. “That’s when I sent you the text.”

One of my eyebrows lifts up. “The _Netflix and chill_ text?”

He blushes deeply and drops his head. “Yes, that one.”

“And what exactly did you expect it would happen, Peeta?” I ask in a more accusatory voice.

“Nothing!” He says, and I give him my best _“don’t bullshit me, Mellark”_ look. “I mean it. It was just an opportunity for us to be alone and I was planning to tell you everything about my feelings and just see what would happen from there.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “So you didn’t even consider sex as a possibility?”

“Arrrrrgh,” he groans, frustrated, looking up at the ceiling. “You don’t understand it.”

“Then explain it to me!”

He inhales and exhales again before looking at me. “Okay. Katniss, sex with you? I couldn’t think of anything more fantastic to happen to me. And I’m not going to lie and tell you that I didn’t entertain the idea of that happening tonight, because I did. _A lot_.” He stops for a moment, gathering himself, and reaches for my hands again. “I mean, I came into it with a lot of hope, but I’d never expect to anything actually happening. To be honest, I was prepared to be rejected, and if that’s how you feel, I’m not going to hold it against you. I meant it when I said I would be fine just being your friend.”

I feel the honesty on his words, but I can’t help it to make sure one more time. “Okay, but the very _concept_ of your text, Peeta-“

“I know,” he sighs, interrupting me. “But, again, that was Finnick’s idea. I’m the one to blame, of course, because I sent the text, but I was just going with his flow, you know? The important things is: I never expected anything when you agreed to come here. I need you to believe this.”

I stare at his blue eyes, full of remorse for ever making me think he’d want me here for just sex, and all the suspicion fades away. It’s Peeta, after all. He’s the most kind human being I’ve ever known, and I’m sure he wouldn’t do this to a girl. Specially me. “Okay,” I say. “I believe you.”

“Great.” He smiles, bright and boyish, and all the pain on his eyes from a second before disappears. “Then that bring us to my question.”

“What question?”

“Did you come over here just to fuck?”

It’s my time to stutter. “I don’t- I- I- What?” I look at him in confusion, but he’s just smirking at me. And that really irritates the fucking hell out of me. “Peeta! You just said you didn’t expect sex when I agree to come over.”

“I didn’t. But then you got here,” he replies, like he just discovered the cure for a terrible disease, and gives me a sly smile.

“And what do you mean by that?” I’m forced to ask.

“Well, for starters, you are all flustered and nervous,” he begins. I open my mouth to object, but he keeps talking besides my complains. “And don’t even try to act like you didn’t initiate some of those touches, Everdeen!”

I’m rendered speechless for a moment, just looking at Peeta and assimilating his words. Because I _did_ initiate some of those touches. Not only that, but I came to Peeta’s dorm knowing the obscure meaning on his text. I scrutinized his every action and contemplated what it meant, just to have the proper response to it. I created opportunities to get closer to him – and him to me – and never backed away when our bodies touched. Damn, I practically moaned one time our skins brushed. And then I blatantly asked him if he wanted to have sex with me. _I_ did all of that.

So, instead of replying Peeta with words, I lean in and kiss him full on the mouth.


	2. Part Two

**Jo _(sent 9:33 p.m):_ ** Mellark already breadsticked you? I want to stop by our dorm to catch my laptop.

 **Jo _(sent 9:36 p.m):_ ** Or things haven’t got toasty with yet?

 **Jo ( _sent 9:38 p.m)_ : **I bet you idiots are just loafing around and not taking initiative.

 **Me _(sent 9:39 p.m):_ ** Jo, enough with the bread jokes!

 **Jo _(sent 9:39 p.m):_ ** Rye so serious, Brainless? Bread Boy didn’t knead your bun yet?

 **Jo _(sent 9:40 p.m):_ ** So, can I go to the dorm or not?

 **Me _(sent 9:40 p.m):_ ** Don’t come near the dorm! You can borrow Leeg’s laptop, I’m sure she won’t mind.

 **Jo _(sent 9:41 p.m):_** Aha! So Peeta’s bread IS rising for you, huh?

 **Jo _(sent 9:42 p.m):_** Okay, I’m turning my phone off now. DO NOT COME TO THE DORM!

 

“Please, don’t tell me your texting another guy while out with me,” I hear from a thick voice beside me and move my head around, my eyes landing on Peeta. He’s smiling brightly, showing his words were just a joke, and I smile back at him.

“I’m sorry. It’s just Jo,” I explain as I fall into the rhythm of his steps. I got a bit behind him during my little debate over texts with Johanna.

Ever the gentleman, Peeta asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. She just wants to know how our date went,” I lie.

“Funny thing, I actually have been wondering that myself,” he quips, a glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

“Well, then I’m gonna have to tell you what I told Jo,” I jest, trying to sound mysterious.

Peeta takes the bait. “And what’s that?” He asks just as we arrive at our destination.

I turn on my heels and give him the sultriest smile I can muster as I flash my college ID on the scanner of my building. “Our date is not over yet.” I see him swallowing the lump on his throat, and how his eyes sparkle with the promise on my words, and another smile takes over my lips. I nudge the gate open with my shoulder and extend my hand to him, “Come on.”

We make small talk as we ascend the stairs up to my floor, but when we reach my door, Peeta stops talking, looking nervous while fidgeting with my fingers. I stand on my toes and give him a light peck on the lips to wipe the agitation off his face. It does the magic, because just as I’m retreating, his arm goes around me and he pulls me back for a deeper kiss.

“So, do you want to come in?” I ask him when the kiss ends, my lips still ghosting over his. “We can finish watching _House of Cards_.”

“Actually, I finished the 3rd season yesterday,” he says, lifting his eyebrows up and dragging his hands up my waist in a way that makes the hem of my blue sundress (the same one Jo suggest me to wear a week ago) lift two inches, exposing more of my thighs. I see the challenge on his eyes. He wants to know how much I want this, if I’m really willing to do this when I have to openly ask for it. And, because is Peeta, he wants to know if I’m sure. The thing is I really do want this. I’ve wanted this since last Saturday, when I kissed him on his couch. Longer even, if I’m being completely honest with myself. And nothing’s going to stop me from getting it tonight.

“Great,” I say, falling back on my heels and fishing my keys from inside my purse. “Then I don’t have to fake being interested in a show while all I want to do is rip your clothes off.”

Peeta’s mouth hangs open and I laugh at him while I unlock my door. When it opens, I have to tug on his sleeve to make him step inside, because he’s still shocked by my words.

“You want water? A beer? Some vodka?” I offer after closing the door and dropping my purse on the couch. Now that I actually got him in my dorm, the nerves are starting to rise, and I feel the need to stall for a while.

He accepts the water and then follows me closely while I go to our small kitchen and fetch him a tall glass of water. As he gulps down its content, I pick up another glass and pour some for myself.

“Jo isn’t here?” He asks before I’m able to take a sip.

“Nope. She’s staying at Leeg’s dorm tonight,” I reply.

He makes a confused face and starts to fill his glass again while I take a long gulp of mine. “Is that Meredith or Marissa?”

I shrug. “Who knows? They are so alike I couldn’t tell the difference.”

He chuckles, but then the confusion returns to his expression. “Wait. Wasn’t Jo with Tresh?”

“Oh, that ended two weeks ago,” I say as I finish my water and Peeta starts to sip on his second glass.

“Seriously? Damn, he was really into her,” he remarks, his face contorting in empathy for his friend. “How do you keep up with everyone she hooks up, anyway?”

“If you had to hear everything she does with them through a thin wall, you wouldn’t forget anyone either,” I quip.

He laughs again, and I find myself noticing how much the sound pleasures me. When he finishes his glass, I take it in my hand and place it with mine on the sink. I’ll wash it later. Now I have better things to do.

When I turn on my heel, Peeta is still on his place by the counter, a good five steps away from me, and I don’t like it at all. “What are you doing all the way over there?” I ask, giving him my best fake mad look. He smiles at me playfully and takes one step away from me. “Hey, no! C’mere, you dummy.”

That makes his smile turns into a grin and a second later he’s right in front of me, taking my small hands on his big ones and dropping a kiss on my forehead. I use the opportunity to tilt my head up and take his lips on mine, but he stops short after a few timid kisses.

“Katniss, I just want to make sure-“

“That I really want this, _yada yada yada_ ,” I say, cutting him off. “I know. Peeta, we’ve already been over this.”

He starts to caress my arm lightly as he repeats the same words he said to me after I kissed him a week ago, “I know. But, I don’t want you feel pressured to do anything just because I have feelings for you.”

“And I don’t,” I tell him one more time. “Frankly, Peeta, I thought you of all people would know that I don’t do anything just because I feel obligated to.”

“Yes, I know, but still… Do you really want to do this?”

“Yes, I do,” I declare, so there’s not any doubt left. “I one hundred percent want to do this, alright?”

He looks suspicious for just another moment before letting himself loose and putting his hands on my waist. “Alright. I believe you.”

“Great.” I smile at him and move my hands around his neck. “Now kiss me, Bread Boy.”

He lifts an eyebrow at me. “Bread Boy?”

“It’s a nickname that Jo created for you.”

“Why would you let-“

“God, did anyone ever tell you you talk too much?” I ask, interrupting him for the second time tonight.

He smiles at me and slides one hand up to tangle in my hair. “A certain best friend of mine.”

“Well, tell her she’s right,” I say, smiling back, and press my lips on his.

It’s a slow and sweet kiss, at first. His lips mold into mine like they were made just for that, and I can taste on his tongue the pasta and wine from the restaurant near campus he took me. The skin of his neck is soft where I touch and the cinnamon scent he always carries with him invades my nostrils, making me feel slightly dizzy. The few kisses we shared Saturday were all chaste and quick. This one is the complete opposite of those, and when Peeta sucks on my tongue, I groan in pleasure.

That’s when things begin to speed up. He holds me against his body tightly, his hands pressing on the slope of my ass, and my fingers begin to undo the buttons of his shirt. My lips slip from his in the action, so I press them on the base of his throat, and he grunts, his hips involuntary thrusting against mine.

“Bedroom,” I whimper on his skin, pulling him by his hand to the hallway to find my room. But it’s not an easy walk. Not with Peeta’s lips attached to the side of my neck, his hands roaming up my body to knead my breasts, his erection firmly pressed up on my ass. His touch makes my skin light on fire and the way he sucks on my earlobe elicits a moan out of me.

 _Why the fuck we haven’t done this before?_ I seriously don’t know. But now that I’m here, I don’t want to ever stop.

We reach my bedroom, _finally_ , and once we’re inside I turn my keys on the lock, just to be sure we won’t be interrupted in case Johanna decides to come home, but I don’t bother turning on the lights. I turn on my heels, then, and kiss Peeta again, my hands dipping between us to finish their work undoing his shirt. Once there’s no button left, I reach for the collar of his shirt and push it off until his arms are free from the fabric, that falls on the floor. I slide my hands down his body when he begins to kiss my neck again, feeling everything I can – his strong biceps, the veins in his forearms, the lines of his chest, the plans of his stomach – before moving them to his back, bellow his white undershirt to feel his heated skin with my fingertips. Then, I tug on it, and Peeta helps me slide it off him with ease. His hands are back on my body a second after that, dipping beneath my dress hemline to grab my ass and press me on his hard-on.

“Peeta,” I groan, pushing him slightly to take us closer to the bed, and he moves his mouth to mine to taste his name on my lips, nibbling on my lower lip.

“God, this was all I thought about this week,” he whispers on my clavicle, his warm breath hitting my skin. I tug on his hair, both hot and irritated by his words.

“You were the one who made us wait,” I say, pushing him onto the bed when we reach it. He lands on his back, elbows pressed against the mattress, and his eyes roam up my body, his eyes full of lust.

“I had to be sure,” he says.

I fight against the instinct to roll my eyes at him and get rid of my flats, kneeling down on the bed, moving up his body to straddle him. When I rub myself down on him, the button of his jeans grits on my clit, and we both moan, my had going back in pleasure. I rest my hands on his chest and rock forward again, locking my eyes in his.

“Of what?” I pant, moving sensuously above him. “That I want you? That I can’t look at another guy because you are in my mind all the time? That I fucking touch myself at night thinking about you?”

“Fuck, Katniss,” he hisses, thrusting up to meet my revolutions, his hands gripping my hips. “You can’t say things like that to me right now.”

I chuckle, and lower myself on him, peppering his jaw with kisses. “Why not?”

He slides one hand up my back, securing me there while I grind down on him, and grunts when I suck on his pulse point. “Because when I come, I want it to be inside you.”

The thought of Peeta between my legs, his cock pulsing with release, has me sitting up straight again to remove my dress. When the fabric finds the floor, Peeta changes our positions in one swift motion, and my back hits the bed. He spreads one of his hands on my breastbone as he analyzes the black bra I’m wearing, how the lace barely covers my breasts. Then his gaze finds mine and I give him a smug smile.

“Do you like it?” I ask teasingly.

“Very much,” he whispers, lowering his chest and hooking his finger around one strap. “Too bad I won’t be able to enjoy it properly,” he adds as he slides his hand to the clasp of the clothing, disengaging it with a flick of his thumb and forefinger.

My smile grows into a smirk. “You can always do that next time.”

His eyes flashes with the promise of a next time and, carefully, he slides down the straps of my bra, his fingertips tickling my flesh as he does it. Once it’s off, he lowers himself onto me, his lips finding mine again, sucking my tongue into his mouth before moving them to my chin. His hands brush my outer thighs as he lips move down, to my jaw, the base of my throat and my collarbone, until they land on my sternum. I’m already panting with expectation when his tongue finally flicks one of my nipples, and I buck my hips up to show him what it does to me. He sucks on it, then, one of his hands coming up to play with the other one, tracing circles around it. The pressure of his lips and hand on such a sensitive part of me makes me moan, and he grunts in approval, his teeth grazing on the delicate peak. After, he moves his mouth to the other one, licking, sucking, exploring, while his hands return to my lower half, pressing on the slope of my ass to make me grind against him.

My hands trail down his shoulder blades, then sneak to his front, finding the coarse hairs of his abdomen. One of then goes down, and when I palm the bulge of his pants, he releases my nipple to curse, his forehead falling between my boobs.

“ _Ah_ , Katniss, could we-“

“Yes, please,” I beg, and he pulls himself away from me to stand up. I scoot myself to the edge of the bed and open a drawer, rummaging through the contents as he begins to unbuckle his belt and zipper down his pants. When I find the foil package, they are already off, along with his sneakers and socks, and he’s only in his boxer-briefs. Then he’s taking it off, and his cock springs free from it, slapping against the skin of his navel. He’s pink and thick, and I lick my lips because I want to suck him, but I also want him inside me, so that will have to wait for another time.

He kneels down on the bed, smiling sheepishly at me, his hands separating my calves, and I leave the condom beside me to hook my fingers on the strips of my panties, lifting my hips up to push them down. Peeta helps me on the end, and when they are off my body, he sends me a look that has a whole meaning behind it.

Before he can ask me, I say, “Yes, I still want you,” and reach for him. He falls on top of me, and his erection grazes my thigh in the most torturous way. He kisses me, then, slow and sweet, his hands brushing my hair back, tucking the loose strands behind my ear.

“I want you, too,” he mutters on my lips, taking the foil package in his hand to open it. Once the condom is out, he slides his hands between us to put it on. On the process, one his knuckles graze my clit slightly, and I whimper, urging him to go faster.

“Okay,” he says once everything’s ready, sounding anxious, and I take his face in my hands to kiss him again, trying to ease down some of his nerves. And then he’s there, pushing into me, spreading me open, making me pant. He doesn’t stop until his deep inside, and when that happens, his forehead drops on the crook of my neck. “Fuck, Katniss. So good, so damn good.”

I’m surprised with myself when a moan comes out of me. Although I wanted this, I expected it to feel awkward at first. But it’s not. Peeta Mellark, my best friend for three years, has his cock inside of me, and it’s not the tiniest bit weird. In fact, it makes me feel full and good, so impossibly good, that all I can feel is the necessity of _more_.

And Peeta gives me that, griping his hands on my hips as he starts his deep and measured movements, on a slow and sensual dance that coaxes moans out of me. I close my legs tightly around him, my ankles crossing on the small of his back. The slow burn starts to build up, spreading through my body, and my hips lift up at their own accord to meet his thrusts.

Peeta lifts his face from my neck to rest his forehead on my pillow, beside my head, and his tongue traces the shell of my ear before his lips close around my lobe just as he begins to drive inside me with more speed.

“Peeta,” I moan, and I can feel the smile forming on his face against my cheek. “More.”

He chuckles, fanning my face with his warm breath. “Anything to draw that sound out of you again.”

Then he’s slipping in and out of me faster, harder. I press my heels on his ass for good measure, and that has him hitting a sweet spot inside of me that makes me gasp, then moan his name, over and over again, like a chant. He brushes my nose with his and then swallow the sounds, moving his lips against mine gently, on such a different rhythm than the one of our lower halves, and I melt into him, in the sweetness of it all.

“You are perfect,” he tells me, panting against my lips. “You feel so fucking perfect.”

He bends his knees behind my legs to get more advantage to fuck me, and the way his body angles up to mine has his pelvis hitting on my clit just right, making me dig my nails on his shoulders, shamelessly rubbing myself up against him. Our skins slap together, covered in perspiration, and Peeta mumbles incomprehensive sounds on my cheekbone, his fingers tightening on the back of my thighs. His thrusts are more erratic now, out of rhythm, and I cling myself to him to keep going, almost there.

“Katniss,” he breathes. “Oh, fuck, Katniss, I think I’m gonna-“

He stills inside me, a guttural sound coming out of his chest as his cock pulses. His orgasm is what sends me over the edge, and I come, crying out his name, my limbs trembling, my walls clenching around him as to milk every bit of his release. Then he collapses on top of me, the sweaty hair clinging to his forehead tickling my skin, and almost everything falls silent as we pant together.

When he pulls out of me and stands up to throw away the condom and clean himself, I instantly miss his heat. But a minute later he’s with me, pulling me into the safety of his arms and dropping a gentle kiss on my temple, and I’m all warm again. I rest my hands on the side of his body and snuggle up to him, and his chin rests on the top of my head.

“I have no words to describe whatever that was,” Peeta whispers when we catch our breaths, and his statement send us both laughing. “But it felt pretty fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Tell me about it,” I say, kissing a freckle on his throat.

He pulls away from me a bit and I can pinpoint the fear clouding his face now that my eyes adjusted to the darkness. His hand slides up my arm on a soft caress and he looks down, escaping from my gaze. “So, I kinda have something to ask you.”

“Okay,” I drag the word on my lips, and Peeta’s eyes fleet to mine for a second.

“You know this means something to me, right? This was all amazing, but the reason I chose to take you out on a date first it’s because I have feelings for you. Very strong feelings,” he explains, and my brow furrows in confusion.

“Peeta, I know all of that.”

“Great,” he mumbles, a tiny smile reaching his lips, his face still full of fright. “There’s no pressure, of course, as I said before, but I just want to know… When you say that you want me…”

And then it dawns on me, the realization of what he means, the meaning of all the panic behind his blue eyes, and I almost laugh, because he couldn’t possibly be that dumb.

“You are a fool, you know that?” I say, hoisting my upper half up with one elbow against the mattress to gaze into his eyes, smiling widely. “Yes, Peeta, I want you. And I mean all of it. The amazing sex, the stupid nicknames, the dates, the fights, the shows marathons. Absolutely everything.”

His eyes flash brightly at me and a grin spreads across his face when he hears my words. “Really? So you’ll allow it?”

I nod and lean in to rest my lips against his. “I’ll allow it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read this and let me know what you think!
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr @ achapterbreak, if you feel like it ;)


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